Call Me Bubbles!
by Judaphine
Summary: During the summer after his first year, Harry meets an un-Dursley Dursley Aunt.


AN: I own nothing! Don't sue me!

Call Me Bubbles!

There was a lot more tension in the Dursley house today. For Harry, there was always some level of it. But, for once, it wasn't because of him. Today, they would be getting an unusual house guest that just decided to drop by whom Vernon and Petunia Dursley had never spoken of before... Vernon's older, very wealthy, sister Eleanor Devere. The first clue that this guest wouldn't be at all like Vernon's other sister, Marge, was the fact that he tried to talk her out of coming. Her steamrollering over his objections _was_ rather Marge-like though. The second clue was that the woman had actually been _married_! Either she had some good qualities, or had found a desperate sucker. Either way, they'd find out soon enough.

The house was as clean as a hospital, thanks to harry, and Petunia was waiting at the door with the two boys for Vernon to arrive with their guest. While Petunia was wondering how abnormal the woman must be for Vernon to never speak of her and Dudley was hoping to get paid for putting up with her like he was with Aunt Marge, Harry was just hoping this woman wasn't as bad... and didn't have any dogs. It was 5pm when they heard the car pull up. Then they heard the Voice.

"Vernon, dahling, I must say this place is looking a bit dull." The Voice was slightly nasal and overly cheerful for a Dursley. "You really should put in some roses, or something. Give it a bit of colour."

"It's fine as it is, Eleanor," they heard Vernon say gruffly, huffing and puffing a bit for some reason.

"Call me Bubbles, dahling. Everybody does," the woman replied. The three in the house were starting to get an idea of why Vernon and Marge never spoke of their sister. She sounded happy and lively, nothing like her siblings. To Dudley, she sounded like the type of aunt who'd spoil a nephew... _properly_! To Harry, she sounded like someone who might actually tolerate him. While the two were thinking these things, Petunia opened the door.

The only thing that showed this woman was a Dursley was her very large figure. Other than that, she looked as un-Dursley-ish as Harry. Her tall and heavy (fat) figure was swathed in a sleeveless, white wrap-dress with a wide, gold belt. Her feet, with red-painted toes, were encased in gold sandals. Her manicured hands, whose nails matched the ones on her toes, sported several large rings. Her neck sported three gold necklaces and her ears held a large pair of gold earrings. Her rather fetching coif was a lovely shade of red and her make-up was both eye catching and tasteful. Even though she was very, _very_ big, she was actually pretty. Especially with her bright blue eyes so full of life and laughter, not watery and sullen as the other Dursleys. Behind her was a walking pile of luggage, also known as Vernon Dursley.

"Boy!" he shouted. "Come get these bags!" Knowing exactly who he meant, Harry darted forward.

"Don't be ridiculous, Vernon dahling!" said Bubbles. "These things are heavy, and he can't be more than nine years old!"

"I'm almost twelve, ma'am," Harry said quietly.

"Still too young to be toting luggage about," said Bubbles, undaunted. "In any case, Vernon, you could use the exercise, I dare say." Hearing something like that out of a Dursley, _any_ Dursley, is enough to incite a fit of giggles as any of them could 'use the exercise'. Harry had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing and turned his head to hide his twitching lips, trying not to smile. So far, he liked 'Aunt Bubbles'.

Vernon felt quite the opposite though. After sputtering and huffing in reaction to her keeping the boy from earning his keep and her insult to his own robust, healthy figure, he trudged upstairs and dumped her bags in the guest room. While he was doing that, Bubbles _had_ to be introduced to the boys. Petunia had met her once, briefly, at her and Vernon's wedding. "Eleanor," said Petunia, pulling her obese child forward, "this is my darling son, Dudley."

"Hn," she uttered, sneering at the dull and dimwitted-looking blob of flesh presented to her "he's definitely a Dursley. Takes after his father. And call me Bubbles!" she said. "Who's the adorable waif hiding behind you?"

"Oh... er... that's my late sister's child, Harry. We took him in when his parents died. Been a burden ever since."

"From the look of him, he doesn't cost you a thing on food or clothing, so he can't be that bad." Bubbles had just earned the love and loyalty of one Harry James Potter. "After marrying my brother, one would think this fragile-looking boy would be a breeze. Anyway! I've just had a long journey and you've yet to offer me a drink."

"Oh... er... yes. Sorry," said Petunia, slightly dazed. Never before had anyone not agreed with her about Harry (at least to her face). And had Eleanor just insulted Vernon again? As well as her own hostess skills? She led her sister-in-law into the sitting room and asked her what she'd like while Dudley plopped himself in front of the TV.

"Gin and tonic, dahling, and should the boy be sitting so close to that idiot box?" Harry was standing in a corner, in case he was needed for anything, staring at the woman in awe while Petunia's nostrils flared in irritation. So far, Bubbles had insulted Vernon twice, kept Harry from having to lug her heavy bags around, insulted Petunia, called Harry adorable, and not taken much interest in Dudley at all.

Just then, Vernon returned and glared at his nephew (and the back of his sister's head). "Boy, go make dinner," he ordered.

Bubbles turned to look at him incredulously. "Surely you jest Vernon!" she said. "Last time I spoke to any of the family they said Petunia was a housewife. Isn't cooking part of her job?"

"The boy's got to earn his keep, Eleanor," Vernon blustered.

"And what does Dudley do to earn his? Fat as he is, it looks like he needs to earn twice as much," Bubbles said snidely.

"MY SON IS NOT FAT!" shouted Vernon.

"Oh, get your head out of your arse and see the baby whale for what he is."

"Have you come here to insult my family?" Petunia asked tersely.

"Not originally, but you're giving me so much ammo," Bubbles retorted. "I came here to see if the local orphanage had any children I'd like to adopt. I'm at that age to want a child of my own. Even had my solicitor write up the papers."

Petunia sneered at the thought of adopting. She was a firm believer in certain things that more open-minded people would consider nonsense. She believed that those who couldn't have children weren't meant to, that children who had no parents were a burden on society who would never amount to anything and that single women shouldn't have children. While Petunia was sneering, Vernon had a greedy gleam in his eye.

"You can have the boy for ten thousand pounds," he said.

Bubbles looked at him as if he'd grown a second head. "Why on Earth would I want your son? And why are you so willing to sell him?"

"NOT HIM!" Vernon bellowed. "I meant that f- Harry! You can have him for ten thousand."

"Why would I buy a child when I can get one at the orphanage for free? I'm not one of those celebrities shopping for tots in third world countries you know."

"Go to an orphanage and you'll have social services poking about in your business. You'll never have any peace. You can have the boy without all that fuss for five thousand."

"I simply can't believe you, Vernon! Trying to sell a child like a piece of furniture! And you!" she said, turning her ire on Petunia. "Standing there, doing nothing while your husband tries to barter away your own flesh and blood! What could be so very wrong with an innocent child that you not only treat him like rubbish, but want to be rid of him?!"

"That boy is not an 'innocent child'! He's a _freak_ like you!" Vernon shouted. "We've put up with him long enough! We want him gone!"

Bubbles gave him a narrow-eyed stare. "Ah, I see," she said slyly. "Reminds you of your shortcomings does he? Can't stand having a wizard around when you can't reach your own magic, you fat Squib?"

In his shock, Harry cut into the entertaining scene. "Uncle Vernon's a Squib?" he piped.

Bubbles glances over at him. "Oh, yes. Your Aunt too," she said. "The Dursley and Evans families are ancient Squib lines. I'm the first witch in the family in over three hundred years, and these two married in the hopes that they'd produce magical children. Fat lot of good that did if that lump of theirs is any indication."

"ENOUGH!" Vernon shouted. "Are you taking the boy or not?!"

"May as well, if only to get him away from such a hateful waste of space as you. But I won't be giving you a single penny for the simple fact that all it would take is a word in the right ears to put you in prison, or worse."

"What?!"

Bubbles turned to Harry again. "Tell me, dahling, how many pieces do you think Vernon would end up hexed into if the Magical world found out he'd abused the Boy-Who-Lived, Saviour of the world and defeater of the worst Dark Lord in a century? Not to mention the last heir of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter?"

A light flared behind Harry's eyes then. "I never thought of that," he said. "And how do you know who I am?"

"I met your mother at Fatso and Horse-face's wedding. Took me a bit to remember but I recall her name now. Lily Evans, eventually married to Lord James Potter and mother of Harry James Potter."


End file.
